After I had met Sunha Park, I gave myself some time to think about the circumstances. I had heard, though not perfectly sure, that one of my daughters were coming to Japan. Whether I was happy or sad, I did not know. I was deprived with love and the relationships that were the sources of happiness. However, I was also acknowledged that the only reason Korean teenage girls were sent to Japan was to educate them into “Comfort Women.” The Japanese soldiers seemed to enjoy this news, expecting a group of young girls to greet them in the next few days. I just hoped my daughter wsa not one of them.
A week later, reality struck. As ten girls entered the base camp, the soldiers, like Hyenas catching their prey, darted towards them, started ripping their clothes, raping them outside. I saw each face, terrified and exasperated, looking for anyone to save them from the mad chaos. After this incident, I was able to meet one of the girls. She was afraid at first, when I tried to touch her hair. The real reason I went up to her was because she reminded me of my daughter. To be honest, I had already forgotten my daughter’s face, but her mood and expressions were mysteriously reminiscent. She was pallid, exhausted and sick of what she needed and will need to face.
“What’s your name?”
“Kim Yoon Shim,” she whispered as she recognized a few soldiers passing by.
I touched her hair again to comfort her, but I realized that she had a fever. I quickly went to get some tea, but before that, I checked her pulse to make sure she wasn’t ill of a particular disease. Fortunately, she was not. But it was difficult to admit whether it was fortune or a jinx--she was pregnant. Honestly, I had wanted to keep this a secret, but soon the Japanese medics found out, and the rumor spread to the soldiers, who began to beat her in the stomach and make sure the fetus died. Yoon Shim was in great agony, reaching for my hands as she was beaten. I regret it now, but I had to walk away.
On December 8, 1941, the Americans declared war on Japan. Agitation exacerbated in the army base; frustrated soldiers and Japanese medics beat me for no reason. Generals commanded the military to prepare for war.
One thing that I learned a little later in the day was that I was also involved in this war. Everyone was. This was total war. I was proud for myself to become an important part of everyone’s life. I was jovial for the privilege to contribute to this war against the Americans. I was aggressive to shoot the Americans, slaughter them, cut them into pieces, see the blood in my hands and laugh. War was now funny and new. I was not afraid anymore. I was not disgusted by one-legged soldiers--I was able to endure and enjoy this experience.
After I had met Sunha Park, I gave myself some time to think about the circumstances. I had heard, though not perfectly sure, that one of my daughters were coming to Japan. Whether I was happy or sad, I did not know. I was deprived with love and the relationships that were the sources of happiness. However, I was also acknowledged that the only reason Korean teenage girls were sent to Japan was to educate them into “Comfort Women.” The Japanese soldiers seemed to enjoy this news, expecting a group of young girls to greet them in the next few days. I just hoped my daughter wsa not one of them.
A week later, reality struck. As ten girls entered the base camp, the soldiers, like Hyenas catching their prey, darted towards them, started ripping their clothes, raping them outside. I saw each face, terrified and exasperated, looking for anyone to save them from the mad chaos. After this incident, I was able to meet one of the girls. She was afraid at first, when I tried to touch her hair. The real reason I went up to her was because she reminded me of my daughter. To be honest, I had already forgotten my daughter’s face, but her mood and expressions were mysteriously reminiscent. She was pallid, exhausted and sick of what she needed and will need to face.
“What’s your name?”
“Kim Yoon Shim,” she whispered as she recognized a few soldiers passing by.
I touched her hair again to comfort her, but I realized that she had a fever. I quickly went to get some tea, but before that, I checked her pulse to make sure she wasn’t ill of a particular disease. Fortunately, she was not. But it was difficult to admit whether it was fortune or a jinx--she was pregnant. Honestly, I had wanted to keep this a secret, but soon the Japanese medics found out, and the rumor spread to the soldiers, who began to beat her in the stomach and make sure the fetus died. Yoon Shim was in great agony, reaching for my hands as she was beaten. I regret it now, but I had to walk away.
On December 8, 1941, the Americans declared war on Japan. Agitation exacerbated in the army base; frustrated soldiers and Japanese medics beat me for no reason. Generals commanded the military to prepare for war.
One thing that I learned a little later in the day was that I was also involved in this war. Everyone was. This was total war. I was proud for myself to become an important part of everyone’s life. I was jovial for the privilege to contribute to this war against the Americans. I was aggressive to shoot the Americans, slaughter them, cut them into pieces, see the blood in my hands and laugh. War was now funny and new. I was not afraid anymore. I was not disgusted by one-legged soldiers--I was able to endure and enjoy this experience.